


to go with grace

by aforest



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depressed Harry Styles, Harry is depressed, Louis is so sweet, M/M, Suicide Attempt, attempted overdose, larry stylinson - Freeform, sad!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aforest/pseuds/aforest
Summary: Harry doesn’t know when or why it starts. He wishes he could pinpoint a day, an emotion, an event, anything; but it seems one day he woke up and a switch flipped in his head he was just sad.  It was crushing. It was a big, heavy weight that crushed his soul and he was just so fucking sad. He just woke up one day and he wished he could sleep forever.orHarry tries to kill himself, Louis is always there to worry.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 96





	to go with grace

**Author's Note:**

> this isn’t very good, i kinda gave up on it half way through. still, hope u enjoy. ignore the grammar errors and medical inaccuracies. leave me a comment :D

Harry doesn’t know when or why it starts. He wishes he could pinpoint a day, an emotion, an event, anything; but it seems one day he woke up and a switch flipped in his head he was just  **_ sad _ ** .It was crushing. It was a big, heavy weight that crushed his soul and he was just so fucking  **_ sad _ ** . He just woke up one day and he wished he could sleep forever. 

Of course he knows there’s many factors that could’ve caused his sudden craving for death, but none of them seem to fit the heavy feeling of his heart. He’s just so  _ tired _ . If there was one word to sum up the way Harry was feeling, it was tired- 3 years of constant touring would do that to you. And hiding your relationship with a fellow band mate. That’s pretty exhausting as well. Harry could get a perfect 8 hours of sleep and wake up feeling like he had just traversed the Sahara Desert alone for three weeks. He’s not physically exhausted, no, but his body aches with how tired he is, tired of being alive. He doesn’t want to die,  of course  he doesn’t wanna  die.  But, it’d be nice to just stop existing for awhile. Or forever. He just needs a break. 

So, Harry does what any suicidal 19 year old would do: buys a gun and tells everyone he’s fine. He picks a date,makes it official, tries to start writing a note. He doesn’t like that part of it. The goodbyes. But he knows he needs to write it, he’d want someone to do it for him. 

-

Louis should’ve noticed. He should’ve noticed that his boyfriend of three years had something going on. Of course he realizes something is off, but he brushes it off as exhaustion from tour. They have a break soon. Just a few more shows and Harry can rest. Louis can’t wait to lay in bed with him for a whole week. A week where he has Harry all to himself, just them in their London flat. He decides he should go check on his boyfriend, find out where he is. He can’t help but miss him when they spend time apart, which is rarely, considering they practically live on top of each other ten months of the year. 

He wanders around backstage before finding Harry in his dressing room. “Hey babe” he grins as he walks through the door. He stops when he sees his boyfriend sitting on the couch, head in his hands. “Baby? What’s wrong?” he spits as he rushes over to gather him in his arms. “Is it your back? Are you sick? You don’t have to perform tonight, you know I won’t let them force you” he mumbles into Harry’s head of curls. 

“ ‘m fine Lou.” Harry says, voice shaking. 

Louis finally sees his face for the first time since he walked in and  woah.  His eyes are red, and god he has never looked paler. The bags under his eyes resemble a bruise and his cheekbones are sunken in. 

“You’re always fine H,” he pouts, taking his boyfriend’s head in his hands, “Why won’t you let me in, let me take care of you?” 

“I’m tired Lou. The break starts tomorrow, I can make it through one last show. I wouldn’t miss out on my last one.” Harry mumbles. 

“There will always be more shows babes. We have one in two weeks. You’re important Haz, your health is important.” Louis whispers, running his hand through the younger boy’s hair. 

“I’m ok Lou. One more show, yeah? Then you can care for me all you want, you’ll have me all to yourself.” Harry says, sounding more like himself. 

“You tell me the minute you feel unwell, got it?” Louis replies sternly. 

“Of course, Lou”

-

_ Well  _ _shit_. 

It always baffles Louis how his week of plans can be thrown out the window with one simple phone call. He has to go to LA with Eleanor during their break. Granted, it’s only for two out of their seven days off but goddammit, Louis wants to be with his boy. Especially after the state he was in on Friday. 

Louis can’t help but feel his stomach drop. Harry’s _fine_ , he tells himself, he’s always fine. And he’s capable of resting up by himself with Louis across the ocean. Alone. In their London flat. Harry is 19, for gods sake, of course he can take care of himself,  stop worrying Louis . Harry is fine and he will continue to be fine. 

-

_ Perfect. Fuck yes.  _

Maybe it wasn’t how he planned to spend his break, but Harry couldn’t bare the thought of killing himself with Louis nearby. He couldn’t stop thinking about Louis finding him, Louis cleaning up the blood, Louis calling the ambulance. It was better this way. Today was Monday, and Louis had just flown off to LA. Harry was gonna do  it  on Tuesday night. Then, Louis would still be gone and would come home Wednesday morning and- fuck. Harry had forgotten about that. Louis is gonna come home to Harry dead on the floor with a hole in his head. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_.  Harry won’t let that happen. He knows that image will be the one that keeps Louis’ up at night. Harry can’t have that.  I’ll make plans for breakfast. I won’t show up and they’ll call someone to come check on me.  Harry was giving himself a headache from how much planning had to go into this. He pulls out his phone and texts Nick, 

_ in london all alone :( breakfast wednesday?? know ur wrking tmrw:D  _

_ of course mate, hubby leave u? _

_ not married and u know he’d never leave me. stunt. la. 9 work?  _

_ he loves u too much. see u then.  _

Well that solves that. Next on his  things to do before pulling the trigger list

_ -Finish the note.  _

Dread courses through his vains. This is the last thing he wants to do, but he knows he’s gotta say goodbye somehow. He wants people to know it isn’t their fault. There was nothing else they could do to prevent it and  _shit_ _there’s_ _so many people to write too_. Too many. Too many people who will wonder what they could’ve done differently, too many people who will blame themselves, too many people who will mourn. Harry doesn’t have it in him to call each person, to talk to them one last time. Plus, it’d look way to suspicious. His last conversations with the boys were fine, they can look back on them fondly once he’s gone. Of course he’ll call his mum on his last day. She can relay his words to Robin and Gemma, it would look bad if he called them all. He’d write a general message to his friends in his note. Maybe add in a note for his fans. 

That leaves Louis. 

Harry knows it’ll be the hardest phone call of his life. But he can’t leave his boy without saying goodbye. He won’t tell him what he’s gonna do, doesn’t want him to worry. He just needs to hear him one last time. 

Louis will probably lay awake most nights, replaying their conversation over and over in his head. Wondering if it was something he said. 

The thought Harry sadder than he’s ever been before.

But he has to go through with it, he knows he does. He’s so tired and he can’t keep going on like this. It’s not fair to anyone. 

Still he writes on the paper, 

_ It’s not your fault Lou. You and I both know it isn’t. Don’t blame yourself. Ever. It wasn’t something you said, I know you’re thinking that. You’ve loved me the best that you could. I’ll love you forever. _

Harry realizes just how much this is gonna fucking suck .

-

Louis doesn’t know why he was even worried in the first place. Harry seemed fine when he left Monday morning and when they briefly spoke after his flight.  He just needed to catch up on sleep  he thought to himself.  Just get through these three days and get home to him. 

Louis didn’t really mind spending time with Eleanor. They had grown to be quite good friends through their forced dates. Harry hates her, of course he’d never show it, but he hates her. And Louis doesn’t necessarily blame him, I mean, she’s fake dating his boyfriend. He knows it upsets Harry, but the younger lad constantly reassures him that he’s fine. Harry is always fine. Harry could break every bone in his body and still tell Louis he’s fine. And Louis believes him, every time. He doesn’t have a reason not to. 

-

Harry hates the waiting. He can’t stand the anxious feeling in his stomach and the thoughts coursing through his brain. 

He’s having second thoughts. 

Who doesn’t when they’re planning on taking their own life? 

(Harry doesn’t like that term.  Taking their own life. It makes it seem like too much of a choice. Harry doesn’t feel he has a choice, it’s just something he has to do. He’s killing himself. Ending it. He doesn’t wanna go on.)

It’s Tuesday morning and Harry paces in the living room mentally running over the list he has on his side table.

To Do 

- ~~ Confirm plans with Nick  ~~

-Finish note (add note to Ben!!!!!)

- ~~Text with the boys~~

~~ -Make bed ~~

-Pick a spot

-Transfer money 

~~ -Talk to gem (monday) ~~

-Call mum

~~ -Find gun  ~~

-Louis’ laundry 

and down at the bottom, underlined and circled a hundred times,

**_-Call Lou_**. 

That last one is probably the reason he’s second guessing his plans. _Louis_. Everything someone finds it’s away back him. For three years everything in Harry’s life somehow connected itself to Louis. Everything he did he did for his Lou. Harry misses Louis so much and it’s hardly been a day. He isn’t ready to miss him forever. Louis’ gonna be heartbroken and  fuck  that isn’t Harry’s intention. He doesn’t want to hurt anybody. That was never his intention. But he has to do it, doesn’t he? He’s gone through all this trouble. He can’t imagine past today, he’s begun to think that it was always meant to be this way, that he was never meant to make it past 19. It’s gonna hurt everyone at first, but they will see why it needed to happen. Harry just simply can’t go on.

Harry spends the rest of his morning doing chores to pass the time. He’s feeling fine, until he goes to put Louis’ laundry away and he can’t find a single matching pair of socks and  _ goddammit  _ he’s gonna miss this. He’s gonna miss Louis’ mismatched socks and he’s gonna miss doing his laundry. He doesn’t know when he starts crying, but he doesn’t stop til around 5 pm. The piece of paper his note is on is littered with teardrops. It’s not like it matters, the note is a jumbled mess anyways, he can’t find the right words to say how he feels and he keeps adding notes to people he’s left out. 

How are you expected to wrap up 19 years of love onto one sheet of notebook paper? 

When it hits 7 pm he decides to call his mum. He isn’t planning on doing  it  til around 10,but he doesn’t want to run out of time. His conversation with his mum is pretty standard. She tells Harry about her cats and garden, while Harry listens intently.She’s getting ready to go out to dinner with Robin, so it’s a lot shorter than Harry would’ve like it to be, but he can’t do anything about it. 

“I love you so much Mum. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Of course H. Have a good night love, get the rest you need.”

And this is the last time Harry’s gonna hear her voice and he’s held it together this whole time and now his lip is shaking and his hands are trembling and he doesn’t think he can do this. 

_Hold it together hold it together._

“Bye Mum. Love you.”

He doesn’t get to hear her say it back. It’s ok.

He knows. 

He calls Louis at 9. He’s decided on the guest room bathroom, it just felt like the best place to do it. The tile will be easy to clean and it doesn’t remind him too much of Louis. He wouldn’t be able to do it if he was thinking about Louis. 

Louis answers the phone with a stern, “You should be asleep by now H.”

“It’s 9 pm. ‘m not a grandpa Lou” He laughs from his place on the bathroom floor. 

“And you hopefully won’t for a very very long time. How are you, love? Resting up?”

This is already a million times harder than Harry imagined it would be. 

“I’m okay Lou. Still tired. How’s your day going?” Harry can’t have the attention on him. Not now. He’ll crack. 

“Are you sure you’re okay baby? You sound shaky. You’re not ill are you?” Louis worries. He’s always worried. So fucking worried. It’s in his blood. 

“I’m fine. How’s your trip?”  _Please don’t ask again. Please god don’t ask again_. 

“Good. Miss you though. Can’t go a day without seeing your stupid face. Coming home tomorrow though, yeah? Gonna give you the biggest kiss” 

Harry can hear his smile through the phone. And  _ fuck  _ the gun is just sitting there, looking him in the face. Louis isn’t gonna be able to kiss him tomorrow, Harry won’t ever kiss Louis again. Harry’s gonna be  dead  tomorrow \-  shit here come the tears. 

“You still with me Haz?”

_Fuck_. He frantically runs his hands  over his face and clears his throat. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I-I miss you too.” There’s no way Louis can’t hear the tears in his voice. 

“H, love, please tell me what’s wrong.” Louis pleads, worry laced in his words. Harry wants to flush his phone down the toilet, he can’t help but hate himself even more for doing this to Louis, it makes him want to grab the gun even more. 

“I love you Louis. So so much”, he says biting his lip and looking up, praying his tears don’t fall. 

“Hey, I love you too. What’s going on, babe?” He sounds so confused. He doesn’t deserve this. Harry wishes there was a way to do this differently. Gracefully. This isn’t fair to Louis, he deserves his happy ending, something Harry can’t give him. 

“I’m just tired Lou. So tired.” He’s can’t hide his sobs at this point. He can’t look away from the gun on the toilet seat; the contrast of the black against the porcelain sends a chill down his spine.  Weird how something so deadly can look so tranquil, innit?

“Haz, you’re scaring the shit out of me. Are you- are you  high ? What’d you take?” Louis harshly asks. 

“No, Lou,” he chokes, “’m so tired Louis. You have to know that I love you. Please Louis.I love you so so much. And....” 

_ Whatever you do, don’t apologize.  _

“I’m sorry. I love you.” 

_Damn it._

“Harry, what did you do? What are you apologizing for?” Louis frantically pleads,

”Harry? Please tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me. We can fix this, love. H?” 

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. It was supposed to be normal and easy and sweet and now Harry’s gone and fucked his whole plan. 

“I’m texting Niall, Haz. He lives close enough, he’ll be there soon. Talk to me,  please” Harry can’t ignore the way Louis’ voice shakes.

“No Lou. ‘m  fine .” Harry croaks out. By the way his voice trembles, it isn’t hard to tell he obviously isn’t. 

“You’re not fine. You’re calling me sobbing while I’m halfway across the world. You’re not fucking fine, Harry. I should’ve never left. Niall will be over at 9:45.” Louis’ upset. Not only has Harry ruined his plans, but now he’s gone and upset Louis. 

It’s 9:15. Harry has 30 minutes to wrap up his conversation with Louis and pull the trigger before Niall comes. Harry wishes Niall didn’t have to be the one to find him, Harry wishes a lot of things were different.

“Harry? Haz? Harry what the fuck is going on?” Harry’s thoughts are interrupted by Louis’ shouts. 

“Louis. Please. I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry babe. I love you. I love you. Fuck. I have to go” 

“Harry, don’t you dar-“

He hangs up. 

_9_ : _20_

25 minutes. Harry’s hands are trembling as his chest heaves up and down. He’s so bloody nervous, more nervous than he was at their first live show. More nervous than he was at his audition. He was so young, so full of life, he can’t help but wonder where it all went wrong. 

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by his phone ringing. He doesn’t have to look to know it’s Louis.  Always so worried . He doesn’t pick up. 

He makes sure his things are in order. His finished note is sitting on their bed along with a sheet of his passwords and legal information. He doesn’t want to leave a hassle behind, he just wants to disappear gracefully from the world. He knows that isn’t how it works. He knows people will talk about him for months, he can’t find it in him to care. 

It’s 9:30 now and Harry’s sitting in the corner of his guest bathroom with a pistol in his hands. It’s so heavy. He never noticed how heavy it was. He feels like he’s gonna puke. His hands are shaking so bad and he can’t stop thinking about the pain. And the blood. And the fact that there’s gonna be a  hole in his head . _Is this the way he wants to go?_ Niall’s gonna find him in fifteen minutes in a puddle of his own blood and  fuck it Harry’s grabbing the sleeping pills out of the medicine cabinet. He didn’t want to overdose originally, knew there was always a high risk of failure, but he can’t do that to his best mate. Niall doesn’t deserve to be woken up at nights from nightmares of a blood covered Harry. 

He pours the pills into his hand. His phone is still ringing, he must have a 100 missed calls from Lou. Except after this one, it stops and doesn’t start again. 

_ He’s given up on you. _

He swallows the pills. 

_ How long is this supposed to take? _

He goes to move the pistol out of sight, not wanting anyone to know his original plans. As he goes to stand up and put it away, he stumbles, releasing the trigger. A loud bang rips through the room and  _Yep that fucking_ _hurts_.  The bullet lodges itself in his rib cage as he screams. 

“Fucking hell! Fuck, Oh my god fuck”

His shaking hands are covered in red and  _Hell_ _can anything go right_?  He falls back to floor, praying the pills take him soon. As he hits the floor, pain courses through his ankle and everything hurts so bad, his body is on fire.  _Looks like I’ll be found in blood anyways._

He can feel himself drifting out of consciousness when there’s a loud knock on his door. He hopes it’s Louis. Of course it’s not, but he just wants his Louis, now more than ever. Suddenly the doors being pushed open and  _Oh Niall has a spare key_. 

“Harry? Ya home?”

_ Please let me die. Please please just let me go. _

“I don’t hear anything, Lou. Yeah his car was out front. I don’t know, Louis.” 

The footsteps seem to be getting closer. His eyelids become too heavy, so he lets them fall. His brain feels so fuzzy and all he wants is a hug from Louis. He wishes he was here. 

“He wasn’t in your room. It’s so quiet in here, ‘s creepy”

The door swings open. The last things Harry hears is Niall’s scream as he explains what he’s seeing to Louis, 

“Fuck he has a gun. He has a gun Lou. He’s bleeding,  Fuck.  Oh god, Haz _what did you_ _ do _ _?_ ”

He’s glad Louis isn’t here.

-

“I’m sorry, Harry. God I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t notice, I should’ve noticed. Haz, please be okay. I need you.”

-

“He could stay in a coma for as long as he wants. It’s all a waiting game now.”

-

“Oh my baby. My sweet, sweet baby. Why did this happen?”

-

_ Fuck it’s bright. _

Harry has no idea where he is. He feels like shit and the white light shining directly above him definitely isn’t helping his massive headache. He raises his arm to cover his eyes and  _Oh that’s new_.  There’s an IV sticking out of his hand and a hospital bracelet on his wrist. His lower abdomen hurts like hell and he feels like he’ll vomit any minute.

“Haz? Oh my god, Haz” 

Louis.

Harry doesn’t know why, but the relief of seeing Louis soothes him immediately. He missed him. He has no idea how long it’s been or what happened but he knows he missed his boy like hell. 

“Baby,” Louis breathes out like he’s been holding his breath for days, “you’re okay.” He says it like he’s unsure. His eyes are brimmed with tears as he grabs Harry’s hand in his. Harry wants nothing more than to leap out of his bed and hug his boyfriend, but exhaustion takes over his body as he drifts back to sleep. 

-

“And you’re positive he’s just asleep, right?”

“Yes Mr. Tomlinson, his body has undergone major trauma. He needs awhile to rest up. His brain activity shows that he is simply sleeping.” 

He forces his heavy eyelids open and is met with the same bright light as before. His headache is milder, but the searing pain in his lower abdomen has only gotten worse. 

“Mr. Styles,” the woman in the white coat smiles, “welcome back.” Harry doesn’t care. All he can focus on is how defeated Louis looks. He looks exhausted and so so sad, even though he’s beaming down at Harry. The light in his eyes is gone. Harry doesn’t like that at all. 

“L-Lou-“ Harry manages to croak out before falling into a fit of coughs. 

“Drink.” Louis demands, with a straw held to Harry’s lips. He obeys, never having been one to let Louis down. His body is so achy, he didn’t know it was possible to be in so much pain after waking up. And he still has no clue why he’s in the hospital.

“How are you feeling, babe?” Louis asks in the softest voice Harry has ever heard. Louis isn’t supposed to be soft. He’s loud and spontaneous and bright. Now, sitting in a chair next to Harry’s hospital bed, he’s so despondent, dull. It isn’t right. 

“F-fine. Wh-“ and he’s coughing again. His throat feels like it’s been scraped with a thousand nails. 

“Take your time, love” he hears as a straw is shoved to his lips again. 

“Why am I here?” Harry’s voice finally allows him to ask. His mouth moves too slow and his words are jumbled together. Louis’ face falls.

“You don’t remember?” 

Harry just shakes his head. He’s too tired to try to speak. His eyes feel so heavy again but he wants to know why he’s here and why Louis’ looks like a shell of himself. But he just can’t stay awake. 

“Go to sleep, Harry. I’ll be here when you wake up. Always gonna be here.”

-

When Harry wakes up this time, there’s no confusion, he knows exactly where he is. He still doesn’t know why, but he’s set on finding out. He’s alone in his room this time. The only trace of anyone ever being there is Louis’ phone plugged in next to his bed. Not wanting to wallow in his thoughts anymore, he reaches over to grab it. He has loads of text messages. Most of them are asking how Harry is. 

So everyone knows about Harry’s accident except him. Before he can unlock the phone and investigate further, Louis rushes in. He’s carrying a coffee in one hand and a magazine in the other. 

“Hey hey, Doc said no screens for at least a week.” He says, as he rips the phone from Harry’s hands before pocketing it. 

“Why am I here Lou? I deserve to know.”

His words are still slurred. No one comments on it. 

Louis’ face pales as he runs a hand through his hair. He’s shaking, he’s literally, visibly shaking as he pulls a chair over to Harry’s bedside and takes his hand. 

“You haven’t got a clue, have you?” He squeaks as tears threaten to fall. Harry’s terrified and he doesn’t know why, so he just shakes his head. Louis swallows and looks down. 

“You overdosed, love. You tried to kill yourself.” He says, voice barely above a whisper. 

Oh.  _ Oh God _ . Harry suddenly feels a hundred times more nauseas than he did before. And yeah, he supposes that is what he did. He still can’t help but ask,

“Why?”

“I don’t know babe. You left a note, but didn’t say why. You don’t remember? Still?” Louis sounds wrecked and Harry hates himself because now he sees that he’s the reason. He’s the reason Louis’ light is gone. He’s so fucking selfish for thinking this was a good idea, but he still wishes it would have worked. He can’t help it. 

“‘S what day ‘s it?” He needs to know what day it is, how long he was out for. His memory is so foggy, he can’t seem to remember anything from the day he did this.  _ I bought a gun. Wasn’t I gonna shoot myself? _

“It’s Tuesday, baby. You were out for about five days. You slept the past two.” Harry doesn’t need to ask to know that Louis hasn’t slept at all this week. He groans suddenly, pain taking over his lower abdomen.  Why the fuck does that hurt so bad? 

“ You had a gun, H. When did you get a gun?You somehow managed to shoot yourself, no one knows.” The sadness in Louis’ voice is so blatant, Harry isn’t surprised to look up and find his face soaked. 

Harry doesn’t know why he starts crying. He did this to himself, he has no reason to be upset. He can’t help it, he doesn’t know what emotion he’s even feeling. Sadness? Anger? Fear? Guilt? It’s all too much. He doesn’t know if he can find the words, but he has to ask, 

“you ‘kay?”

“That’s enough questions for now, Haz. You’re okay. That’s all that matters. I love you, go to sleep, it’s alright.”

-

Turns out a failed overdose can still leave you with a handful of injuries. 

Harry shouldn’t have any permanent brain damage. His speech is a bit slurred and his thought processed is delayed due to the loss of oxygen to his brain, but it should go away eventually. The right side of his body moves a bit slower than his left, sometimes doing the exact opposite of what his brain tells it, something to do with nerve damage from dying in the ambulance. 

Oh that’s something fun, Harry recently found out he coded in the ambulance. Had to shock him and bring him back to life, riveting stuff. He was actually  _ dead  _ for four minutes. His left ankle and wrist are slightly sprained from falling over. Still, he can’t recall how he shot himself, but it’s healing nicely and he should be fine to go home today. 

He’s not sure he wants to. 

He doesn’t want to stay in the hospital. But he’s not sure what to expect once he goes home. Does life just go back to how it was? The hospital has already referred him to a psychiatrist along with a physical and speech therapist, so there’s that. Louis fought viscously with management to get tour pushed back at least a month. His mum is here too, and she plans on living with them for a week, just to look after Harry. 

Harry hates this so much. The babying. It’s horrible. He’s still Harry,  _ yeah _ he tried to off himself but he’s still Harry. Just with a little brain damage and a hole in his stomach. He doesn’t like the way everyone is on eggshells around him, scared to say the wrong thing like if they do he’ll go and shoot himself again. He isn’t fragile. Just tired and sad.

Louis wheels him out to the Range Rover, beaming from ear to ear. “We’re gonna get to have our lie in, Haz. Finally gonna get you in bed after all these days. Get you some good sleep.” 

Harry doesn’t have the heart to tell him he doesn’t want to ever wake up. 

-

Being home is really weird. Louis doesn’t let him out of his sight and his mum is around every corner waiting to help him with his crutches. His brain feels like it’s lagging and he almost always has a headache. He doesn’t leave the bed much, even as much as Louis pleads. Louis tells him being cooped up can’t be good for him, Harry doesn’t care. He’s still  so tired. 

They don’t really talk about  it once Harry’s home. Not until it’s a week later and Anne has left. They’re laying in bed with a space between them that never was there before. Harry doesn’t know what’s happening with him and Louis, but he feels a world away. 

“Harry, cuddle me?” Louis mumbles into his pillow. It’s a question he’s asked nightly since Harry’s been home. Harry gives the same answer as always, “‘’M side hurts too much Lou.” 

“You’re so far away, Haz. I miss you.” 

And it’s so quiet, Harry’s not sure he was even meant to hear it. 

“‘M right here Lou.” 

“You know that’s not what I mean,” the silence in the room so thick, “Why’d you do it, H? Was it me? In your note you said it wasn’t my fault, but if not me than who? What made you hurt so bad?” 

Louis’ crying and Harry just wants to tell him he  _doesn’t know_ why he did it, but the truth is he does. He talked about it with Jenny at his therapy appointment, she told him he must of always been depressed and the stress of tour and being forced into the closet was simply too much for him. Being forced to constantly be energetic and happy caused him to deteriorate inside. 

“You called me that night. Do you remember that?” 

Harry doesn’t. Louis continues, 

“You kept saying how tired you were. You were so fucking upset, Haz. Never heard you sound like that. And I knew something was seriously wrong. I knew something was wrong the minute I left you. You were so mellow, H. It was like a part of you,” he holds back a sob, 

“It was like a part of you was dead, Harry.”

Harry thinks he can actually feel the moment his heart shatters. 

“You weren’t yourself. I’ve beat myself up for days for getting on that plane. If I had known that you... that you were fucking  _ suicidal  _ Haz? I would’ve told Modest to go fuck themselves. God, why didn’t you tell me?” Harry closes his eyes. He can’t manage to watch Louis’ fall apart over something he did. 

He thinks the next words Louis speaks will keep him up for years to come. It’s barely a whisper, 

“I could’ve fixed you.”

That’s not fair. Louis doesn’t deserve to think he played any part in this. This was all Harry’s doing 

“‘M not fixable, Lou,”Harry croaks, “ there’s nothing you could’ve done.” 

Louis sits up. “I don’t wanna lose you. Each night I go to bed, terrified that I’m gonna wake up to your cold, dead body. You’re gonna slip out of my grasp again and I won’t be able to save you. You’re not unfixable, Hazzie. Don’t ever say that again, okay? We’re gonna fix you. But we have to talk to each other. No more distance. Sometimes it feels like you really did go that day, you’re just not the same. I fucking hate it. You gotta let me in, okay? I want my Harold back.”

Harry doesn’t know how he could ever want to leave Louis. He was out of his mind for thinking this boy would ever give up on him. The darkness in his heart is still there and he still wants to die in the back of his mind, but he can’t imagine ever losing Louis. He supposes progress is progress. And the first step to getting better is honestly, at least that’s what Jenny says.

Harry doesn’t want Louis to know, but he know he deserves to, so he hurriedly explains, “Jenny thinks I’ve always been depressed. Said antidepressants might help. Tour doesn’t make it any better and neither does hiding our relationship. She thinks Eleanor has a negative impact on my mental health-“ Harry swears he hears Louis stop breathing. 

“ _Haz_ -“  he manages to choke out before he’s shaking with sobs. Harry’s quick to wrap his arms around him and begin rubbing his back, the way he told Harry his mum used to when he was poorly. 

“How did I not notice? It’s my fault. Oh my god this is my fault. I’ll break up with her, H. I will, I’ll call tomorrow, I’ll breach the contract I will, I promise. I’m so sorry baby.” 

“‘S not your fault, Lou. Was never your fault. Never.”

For the first night in weeks, they fall asleep wrapped up in each other. 

-

Harry’s wrist heals quickly. His stitches get removed. His words become less slurred.

His head is still a mess.

Therapy seems to be making him  regress and he ends up leaving feeling shittier than when he started. Communication lines are more open with Louis, even if Harry is stretching the truth a bit. 

“Therapy’s going great, love”

Yeah, just a bit of a stretch. Louis deserves to not worry. 

Life goes on, Harry heals physically and tries his hardest to heal mentally. Louis worries. They start tour again in a week. The exact thing that led Harry to overdose in their guest bathroom. He’s hidden all pills, anything sharp, and threw away Harry’s gun, but he  _ still  _ worries. He can tell Harry isn’t fully better. A piece of him is still missing. No matter how hard he pries, Harry is still “fine”. 

Louis can live with being worried for the rest of his life. As long as he can keep an eye on Harry and make sure he’s safe. And that’s what he plans on doing. Never, ever letting his boyfriend out of his sight. 

-

“You’re leaving me?” 

“H, I tried so hard. I gotta go see her. One more pap walk before the break up article. I’m so sorry baby, I’m so so sorry”

“‘S okay boo. I’ll be fine alone. You don’t have to worry”

Not possible.

“The boys will be around to hang out and your mum will be here tomorrow. Call me whenever okay, babe? Middle of the night, arsecrack of dawn, you got me.” 

-

Harry _can_ be  alone. He swears he can be left alone with his thoughts and not go insane.

It’s just... he misses Louis more than anything and his mum left and the flat is so  _quiet_.  Today had been a bad day for Harry’s brain, his limbs weren’t cooperating with his brain’s signals. He was near tears when he couldn’t get his fingers to switch the telly. Without the laugh-track of  _ Friends  _ or Louis’ loud voice, Harry had nothing to distract him from his thoughts. 

Harry had always been a thinker, often getting lost in his head during school. Sometimes he daydreams, other times he spirals down a path of overthinking. 

-

It’s 8 pm when Louis gets the call. His stomach immediately drops at the caller ID illuminating his face. It’s all too familiar, it’s 4 am in London  why  is Harry calling? 

“Hazza?” He tries to hide the worry in his voice. All he hears from the other line is heavy breathing. 

“Baby? You there? It’s 4 am, H.”

“I know, Lou. Can’t sleep.”, Harry’s voice cracks. Louis’ tries to ignore it. 

“Missing me too much, I assume?” Louis giggles. And thank  _ God _ , Harry’s laughing back. 

“You know it. The bed feels so empty, Lou”, no matter how hard he tries, Louis can’t ignore the shakiness of Harry’s voice. Harry is clingy, sure, but normally he can make it through a couple nights without Louis. 

He tries to keep his voice as steady as possible as he asks, “Are you sure you’re okay, babe? You have to tell me if you’re not feeling good, okay?” 

Harry whimpers, 

“‘M not okay, Lou. I don’t feel good at all.”

“That’s okay, love. Just talk to me, okay? I’m all ears, baby. You’re not gonna hurt yourself, are you? Please be honest with me.” Louis hates to make Harry feel like he doesn’t trust him, but the truth is. he doesn’t. 

“God, no Lou. I’m not gonna do anything. Just need you”, he sounds so betrayed. 

“I’m here. I’ll be home so soon, honey. Now tell me what happened today.”

Harry explains the loneliness and his brain not cooperating with him, 

“It’s so frustrating, Lou. It’s so hard and I’m so upset because  _ I _ did this to myself. And... I don’t know I was just so upset I couldn’t sleep, needed fresh air.”

“Fresh air?” 

“‘M up on the roof of the flat. It’s peaceful up here.” 

Louis is surprisedhe doesn’t have a heart attack right then and there. 

“Harry, go inside-“

“‘M not gonna jump, Lou. I need air”, Harry sobs out. Louis doesn’t care. 

“Go inside right now, H. I’m gonna call Liam to come get you. Go inside for me, okay?” 

“Louis, please, I’m not gonna do anything-“

“Harry go the fuck inside right now or I’ll call the cops, I will.” He doesn’t mean to sound so degrading, but his suicidal boyfriend is on the roof of their flat at 4 am, he has a right to not trust him. 

“Please, Harry. For me?”, he whimpers. 

“Okay. Okay, Lou I’m going inside” 

Louis can feel his heart restart. 

“Oh thank you babe. Thank fuck. Liam is gonna come over, okay? Keep you company. You can open up some windows, get some air then. Maybe go for a walk?” Louis doesn’t want Harry to feel he has to earn back his trust, but the truth is he does. 

“Don’t need a babysitter Lou” 

“Of course not. But you need to stay safe, and I don’t think it’s safe for someone who overdosed three weeks ago to be standing on a rooftop at 4 am, is it?” 

The line goes dead. Louis calls back, and it goes to voicemail. No matter how angry Louis is at Harry, he can’t help but worry. 

He has a right to worry.

He blows up Harry’s phone and begs Liam to hurry over. His mind is full of images of Harry’s flattened body, his blood splattered on the sidewalk. He paces his hotel room, practically ripping out his hair. His worry is calmed worn a text from Liam,

_i’m here w him. he’s in bed, seems pissed at you. thinks you don’t trust him. we’re gonna get some sleep, night Lou._

Louis  _ has a right  _ _to worry._ His boyfriend tried to kill himself a week ago, he has a right to be worried.

-

Tour starts. Harry gets a new psychiatrist who helps him feel better, her name is Audrey, and she joins them on the road. She is available for all the boys to talk to, but Harry uses her the most. 

As time goes on, Harry returns more and more to his old self. His smile gets wider and he cracks horrible knock knock jokes. 

He’s more open with emotions now, talking through the things that upset him. He cries a lot, but it’s okay, it’s better than keeping it bottled up. 

Louis still worries. But now, Harry is used to it. Audrey tells him it’s a testament to how much Louis’ loves Harry. Harry agrees.

Louis shows his love through his good morning kisses, and the whispered  _ How are you, love? _

Louis shows his love through agreeing to have a couples therapy session.

Louis shows his love through glancing at Harry every song on stage, making sure he’s alright. 

It becomes routine, Harry cries, Louis worries. Harry reassures him  he’s fine,  except this time he means it. 

Louis shows his love through each goodnight kiss. The tender, gentle kiss that is so full of love, Harry didn’t even know it was possible to feel so loved. And when he thinks Harry’s asleep, he whispers into his curls, 

“Thank you for staying.” 


End file.
